Primus
by Sakon76
Summary: [G1] A musing into the religious aspects of Cybertron, and what it might mean to be a Chosen One.  Spoilers for the entire G1 series.


The planet, the golden planet, was dying.

The laughter of its children was slowly silenced by poisoned food, poisoned drink, poisoned air.

One by one, the concerned murmurs of its adults were smothered too.

In droves, in terror, they fled to the far stars, leaving their mother, their heart, behind.

Until only a handful remained.

_"I have chosen you."_

**Primus**  
by K. Huntsman  
released 11th August 2000  
updated 9th September 2007

Optimus Prime had one breath of hope left. However dark this might be... surely the Matrix contained the answer. It contained all the accumulated wisdom of his people, and the solution, if anywhere, could be found there.

He looked at the few who had accompanied him on this night. Ultra Magnus, Blurr, Kup, Perceptor, Springer, Arcee... and Hot Rod.

_Please, let this work,_ he silently prayed as he raised the Matrix over his head and began to slowly pull it open, letting the glimmering blue light contained within spill out over the darkness that was now Cybertron. _Please, Primus... save us._

* * *

Somewhere, elsewhere, a breath of laughter at the tickle. 

A pause.

And pale violet optics glowing in interest.

* * *

The explosion of burning white light knocked all the Autobots off of their feet. Kup pushed himself up, automatically wondering what grill-sparking punk had gotten the nerve to light fireworks so close to a civilian area-- 

He stopped as he saw the form that stepped out of the white fire.

The mechanoid was neither young nor old, neither male nor female, emblazoned with neither an Autobot or a Decepticon marking... Kup knew who it was.

He'd known Primus once, when he was newly-created.

* * *

_You have called me, Optimus Prime,_ the voice washed over his mind. _You have opened the relic I gave to your people and called my name in your heart. Now I am here. What would you desire of me?_

"Who...?" he heard Springer ask.

"Primus," Hot Rod replied in an awed whisper.

Primus changed its view at Hot Rod's voice, seemed to see the others in the area for the first time, and smiled at them, that smile full of recognition and power and ruthless benevolence. _You know me, my Chosen? Or have you forgotten my touch after so many millenia?_

"N-no," Hot Rod said, finding his way to his feet. "I remember you, Primus... I just didn't think I would ever see you again. I was only a substitute Prime, and that was a long time ago."

_Hhmm._ Primus seemed amused. _Every Cybertronian knows me, in the moment of their birth, in the instant of their death... and some, in a moment in between._ Its gaze drifted to Kup. _Do you remember me still, Kup?_

"How could I ever forget?" Kup's voice was low and respectful.

Primus smiled and the white figure detached itself from the flames and the light, drifting into the group of Autobots with a fluid grace. It turned first to Ultra Magnus, offering a hand and helping him to his feet. _Do not think you are unworthy of me, Magnus,_ that voice whispered, _your time to know me shall come as well._

"I..." Magnus replied helplessly, speechless.

Primus smiled and turned next to Perceptor. _Do you believe now in me, searcher?_

"Primary contact indicates your existence," the scientist replied, "but further information is required..."

Primus cut him off with a gentle touching of its hand to Perceptor's mouth. _Do not fear what you do not know, searcher. In time I too may be understood._

"Idon'tbelievethis,Iabsolutelydon'tbelievethis,youreallyarePrimusandyou'reherewithusnow--" Blurr stopped short as Primus turned next to him, a slightly puzzled line between its violet optics.

_Is there no rest for you?_ that gentle, powerful voice washed again. _Dear one, you too have no need to fear..._

Springer and Arcee held one another close as the deity turned to face them. Primus smiled. _I fear not your love for one another. Do you fear that I should ever seek to separate those who are true?_

"You want something," Springer said bluntly.

"Springer!" Arcee glared at him.

_No, he is right,_ Primus contradicted Arcee. There was a definite sense of humor that the god was exuding. _There is something that I want; your mate is correct._

"What is it?" Hot Rod asked.

Primus turned to face him last. _A sacrifice in return for a gift._

"A sacrifice?" Optimus' voice was wary.

_There are laws in this universe to which even I am bound. You desire of my power that I cleanse my daughter, the world you know as Cybertron. Very well, I can do this thing. However, in order for something to be received, something must be given. For each action, there must be an equal and opposite reaction. Therefore, I have a request of my Chosen One._ Primus stepped beyond Hot Rod to the leader of the Autobots. _Do you deny it to him to choose it if it pleases him?_

"No." Prime's voice was strong. "Hot Rod chooses his own path."

Primus looked for a long moment upon Optimus Prime. _Your burden has been hard to bear, Orion Pax,_ that voice whispered eventually. _For that, I sorrow. I cannot regret, however, that you have been strong enough to carry it._

Optimus' optics lowered to the ground. "Primus, may I ask one thing?"

The god nodded slowly. _I know that thing which you desire for yourself, and its price has long been paid. I grant it. Just... wait. Its time is not quite yet, but shall be soon._

Primus turned its attention then back to the one who had so briefly been another Prime. _Chosen One, if I asked of you that you give something up in exchange for what I do, would you?_

"What?" Hot Rod's voice betrayed no emotion.

_Your name._

_Your essence._

_Your life._

"Rod, no!" Springer took a step towards his friend. "It's too much--there's got to be another way to heal Cybertron!"

_No. There is not._ The god's voice was awash with sorrow. _My daughter is too far gone for mortals to heal her._

* * *

Hot Rod took exactly ten astroseconds to absorb the entirety of what Primus was asking of him, to calculate out the ramifications of either of his possible answers, and to arrive at a final conclusion. 

"I accept," he said, forestalling any more protests from anyone. "I accept your offer, Primus. Sorry, Springer. Sorry, Prime." He could feel all eyes on him, feel their upset. But also, through the Matrix which had never fully withdrawn its link to him, he could feel Prime's approval. _The last act of Rodimus,_ he whispered in his mind and along that link.

Primus smiled lightly and stepped up to him, the white flames roaring up, gathering again around the god. _Then it is done,_ it replied, and thrust hands through Hot Rod's chest, into the laser core that was his spark.

And he could feel the pain and the fire burning him away and burning the darkness and sickness away from Cybertron. His death was saving his world...

_Not so,_ that laughter-voice of the god contradicted. _There is far more to it than that. Come, Chosen, and see..._

And Hot Rod fell into the white aura as he burned up from inside, losing himself into the pure light.

* * *

As his sensors recovered from the overload, he found himself floating in a sea of blue, the shade of which was oddly comforting and familiar. _The Matrix?_ Rodimus wondered. He looked at his hands, seeing the minute differences that this light cast over him. He had reformatted again, from Hot Rod to Rodimus Prime. _But... Optimus is still alive. _He_ has the Matrix..._

The blue around him wavered, rings of sudden deeper blue shadow interlocking in delicate patterns of very soft laughter. _So he does, Chosen._ And the name seemed an endearment.

"Primus."

The white form emerged out of the shadow patterns and regarded Rodimus. He studied it in return, no longer fearful of offending the god now that he was dead anyway. Primus was shorter than him, with no signs in its design of what an alternate mode, if any, there would be. The figure was drawn of smooth, flowing lines but somehow was not entirely one of the Femme models either. And the soft voice was perfectly genderless.

"This isn't your real form," Rodimus stated.

Primus laughed again. _True enough, Chosen. But also false. I have no form, and I have all forms. I chose this one because it is a memory in the mind of another who was like you in his youth._ The god's voice was wistful. _That one, like you, had the potential to become my Chosen... but he declined._

"Wait, wait, wait," Rodimus said, shaking his hands. "Can we start from the beginning? What's the deal with this 'chosen' thing? And where _are_ we?"

Primus smiled. _This... is creation. This is the heart of Cybertron. The place where your species came into birth, and the place where you all sleep when you die, until I call each again to serve. It is the well and hall of souls. Can you name this place, Rodimus?_

This light...

"The true Matrix?"

_Not so dull as you are sharp-looking,_ the deity teased. _You answered that well enough, Rodimus. There are things within the Matrix that none have ever explored alive, and things that none have ever explored dead. It is, as all things, far more within than it seems from without._

"This is the source of life?" Rodimus questioned, looking around the light of wisdom as if he had never seen it before. "But I thought Vector Sigma..."

_A pathway alone. For your kind, life itself is the act of a god._ There was a wry note of humor. _For organic creatures, the process goes by different means._

_Do you not remember?_

* * *

--and he did. 

A spilling of blue light, softening the universe away from him as he took the Matrix in his hands. A reformatting of his body in that light, the opening of his soul to all he could be, and was. The champion of a god who disliked an upstart trying to destroy the world it had created.

He died, and was reborn.

"_Arise, Rodimus Prime._"

It had been Optimus...

...and Primus, both--

* * *

"I remember." 

_Then you know._

_You know what you are, my Chosen._

"Your... champion?" he asked uncertainly.

_I prefer the term "avatar."_

Rodimus groaned and buried his head in his hands. He'd never thought that Primus would be as bad to deal with as some of the more flighty transformers he'd met.

* * *

_Follow me, Chosen. There is much to do, and little time to do it in. You must learn before you can return._ Primus waited with a smile for its champion to follow it. 

"What do you mean, 'return'?" Rodimus quizzed.

_As I said, "return." You are here only temporarily... there are things yet to be done in that life which require more knowledge than you have now, to shape._

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Rodimus held up his hands in a gesture of refusal. "I am _not_ taking the Matrix back! That's Prime's!"

Primus laughed softly.

_Who said anything about you holding the Matrix again?_

_By the time we're done..._

_...you'll no longer need it._

* * *

"So the Chosen One..." 

_Could have been any of several who had the potential. Only you chose to accept that destiny._

"Who were the others?"

_Search, Rodimus. Do you not already know the answer?_

He thought about it, looking for something that wasn't quite there, but was. An instinct, one that reminded him of how the Matrix had been, a gentle nudge in the back of his mind... he was learning to make it work when he wanted it. "Starscream. Alpha Trion. Springer, even. Kup?!"

_And others. Starscream denied it, chose to walk away from me. Alpha Trion felt that another would come who was better-suited. Springer might have been, but he shied away from it. He preferred to let another--you--hold the glory and pain. And Kup... he and I spoke long ago. I offered it to him. He didn't want it._ There was sadness, but also a soft resignation to Primus' voice. _Eventually you were the last left. Then the time ran out and I had to offer it to you somewhat prematurely. You, of all the possibles, accepted._

"Wait a minute--you're a god. You mean you're saying you didn't know all of this in advance?!"

_Gods are neither omnipotent nor omniscient when bound to something. We live in the timestream when that happens and cannot see ahead._ Primus turned its optics away a little. _We create you, but we cannot see how things will affect you. You mortals manage to surprise us quite often._

* * *

_It is done._ The word of the god was resolute. _You now know enough to learn for yourself, to act and to move as you may and must._

"Done?!" Rodimus was surprised. "But...!"

_No more. Now you must return. There are things you must do, now that my daughter and your species are reborn. The time has come for the new age of peace and growth on Cybertron and worlds beyond._ Primus offered its hand to Rodimus and he took it. _I mark you as mine, Chosen._

A white triangle glowed upon Primus' white forehead and moved down its form, spinning like a bracelet around the arm of the hand that held Rodimus', spinning past the connected hands onto his arm, flowing onto his chest, affixing itself onto his chest, changing, until it was a golden triangular network of interlacing circuitry, one point up, whose imprint surrounded his Autobot decal. Gold on gold, surrounding the red.

Primus released his hand as Rodimus examined the new mark, unsure of whether he liked it or not.

_It is strange to you now, but perhaps shortly you shall be more accustomed to its sight and weight, my Chosen,_ Primus whispered. _You chose me once, would you deny me now out of fear?_

"No," Rod said, looking up. "It's just..." He sighed. "I'm not sure I'm ready for this. I'm not sure you Chose the right person."

Primus smiled. _You are._ Those light violet optics were very close to Rodimus' now and he felt that he could see forever in that field of color. _And I did. Now, go..._ The violet turned into white flames which licked at him, lapping higher and higher until they consumed his being and the last thing he could see were those violet eyes and the gentle smile of the God who had Chosen him...

* * *

"Rod!" Springer sprang for the fire as it completely consumed his friend and the god.

A hand stopped him. "No, lad," Kup said. "Primus won't hurt him."

"Are you crazy, Kup?!" Arcee demanded. "Primus is killing him!"

Kup shook his head, blue optics on the flames. "Think. Would Primus go to all the trouble of having a Chosen One just to kill him off?"

"Do you know something we don't, Kup?" Ultra Magnus said, taking a step forward.

"All too much, lad," Kup whispered softly as the flames died away and Rodimus fell to the ground where Hot Rod had been. He released his hold on Springer and let the green Autobot race to his friend. "All too much."

* * *

Rodimus opened his eyes as someone shook him. "Springer?" he asked, confused. "Where did Primus go?" 

"Who cares?!" Springer replied. "You're alive! I thought this time you were really dead!"

"No way, I'm too stubborn for that," Rod replied on instinct. He sat up slowly, blinking. "Where am I?"

"Are you really all right?" Arcee asked worridly, kneeling down before Rodimus and tilting his head up so she could examine his optics.

"Where do you think you went?" Perceptor inquired, catching the idea that Rodimus had been somewhere else.

"To... where all are one."

"Whereallare--waitaminute!Where'sthatwhere'sthat,where'sthat?!" Blurr replied, his face suddenly all confused.

Optimus laughed softly. "The Matrix."

It was too much. Too many sights and sounds and voices after being bathed in the quiet Matrix light with Primus for so long--how long? Time? He checked his chronometer. No time. None whatsoever.

But it had felt like a lifetime.

"Primus--" he started to blurt out, when Kup knelt down beside him, forestalling what he'd been about to say.

"Don't, lad," the older Autobot warned. "There are some things no one can understand until they've been in that place."

He remembered Primus' words then, remembered that it could have been Kup playing his role... "You understand, though."

Kup smiled and nodded. "That I do, lad."

It was enough that Kup understood.

* * *

Primus looked down at the still form and smiled. Lightly, still wearing the shape Kup had once given it, Primus brushed digits against the sleeping mechanoid's forehead. _Elita-One,_ the god murmured, _soon it will be time for you to awaken again. Start preparing yourself for that, if you please. Your mate has been bereft of you too long..._

Primus was a deity who pleased to keep its promises.

* * *

Rodimus sat looking up at the night sky. 

He'd never thought it would happen like this. Being Primus' Chosen One was a strange thing... especially now. Cybertron was healed, and everyone credited it to him. He tried, but couldn't manage to explain that Primus would've healed the planet anyway. That it had been the _intention_ of sacrifice that had mattered more than the actual act. No one seemed to quite believe him. Except Kup, who understood, and Springer, who just accepted most things like that. Rodimus wondered if Springer knew, remembered, that he could have been the Chosen One instead of him.

He was glad he had chosen to be the Chosen One, even if he hadn't known it was even a choice... no. He had known, somewhere inside, but hadn't even paused to consider saying "no" to the offer. To the chance to be someone, do something...

He smiled, feeling that nudge of instinct telling him Magnus was coming from behind him.

"Have a seat," he invited as the Autobot Commander stopped. "The sky's looking really good tonight."

Ultra Magnus folded to the ground with neither noise nor speech and viewed the pinpricks of brightness against the black field along with Rodimus. Rodimus found the star that was Earth's sun and smiled. He was going to ask Prime pretty soon if he could get assigned to Earth for a while again. Or maybe Mars, if he couldn't pull off Earth.

"Rodimus, what happened?" Magnus' quiet voice wasn't unexpected. That flutter of feeling had told him Magnus wanted to talk.

"Primus reconfirmed me as the Chosen One," Rodimus replied.

"That explains your new insignia."

"Hmm?" Rodimus turned to look at Magnus, surprised. "What do you mean?"

Magnus hesitated. "...It's something I found in the records of one of the religious sects from ten million years ago. Your new marking is the insignia of Primus; according to the file, that symbol gives you the authority and responsibilities of religious guidance, because you've earned it."

_Right!_ the flutter sang. Rodimus started; he hadn't known it knew how to speak.

"Oh, great," he muttered, but couldn't help it as the corners of his mouth curved up in a smile.

Life and the future were promising to be very interesting, it seemed...

* * *

_Author's Notes_: An old story, revisited and revised... I think this started with the idea of what "Chosen One" means. If one is chosen, then someone has to be doing the chosing, no? And, really, I'm with Kup--gods tend to be practical. Primus isn't just going to use up and throw away a perfectly good Chosen One in a few years' time. The rest of this came from wondering what it would take to actually summon up a god on the order of Primus, and also wondering who else might have caught Primus' eye as a potential Chosen One. In any case, I hope you enjoyed the story. 


End file.
